


Big Devil Energy

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Now That's What I Call Big Devil Energy! [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Halloween, Humor, Post-Season/Series 04, Step-Devil, about autumn not the fall, devil behaving badly, mojo in effect, the devil can turn anything on, the devil is a fanboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 04:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: Chloe loathes the LAPD's annual, family-friendly harvest festival, so maybe it's not the end of the world that Lucifer makes this one more memorable. In most all the wrong ways.





	Big Devil Energy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObliObla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/gifts), [TheYahwehDance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYahwehDance/gifts).

The LAPD, like most organizations in the United States, ran a little like a corporation, whether it should or not. This meant civilians could buy tacky memorabilia at the Los Angeles Police Academy, that optics and PR were sometimes more important than the truth, and that gatherings for the friends and family of "the boys in blue" doubled as "team-building exercises" that "boosted morale." Attending at least three of these events a year was _strongly_ encouraged. Alongside one-off events, like charity boxing matches, there were several recurring and less public affairs, the two most prominent being the spring picnic, held in April, and the harvest festival, which took place on the first Saturday in November. 

Chloe tried to see the good in these morale boosters, but the truth was she loathed them, especially the private events, where inevitably someone assumed she was an officer's wife, rather than a detective in her own right. She knew it shouldn't offend her so much, but then she also figured she'd been shot enough times in the line of duty to feel a little indignant.

The harvest festival was in two days, and it was all she could think about, even as it was the last thing she _wanted_ to think about. Ella was visiting a cousin in Florida, but Dan would be there, and Trixie would be thrilled to have another opportunity to wear the (terrifying) demonic clown costume she crafted with Eve and Maze's help. 

A coffee cup _thunked_ on Chloe's desk, drawing her from her thoughts. She lifted her gaze, heart thumping in double time, to find her toothy smile mirrored on her partner's face. Lucifer was dressed as impeccably as ever, today in midnight blue and crisp white, and though she would never, ever admit something like this aloud, she was pleased the colors she'd chosen to wear didn't clash with his. Because that was a thing she thought about now, like some smitten twelve-year-old drawing hearts in a notebook. Lucifer, she finally understood, didn't _truly_ care if she was in a cocktail dress or a sackcloth (and preferred her in neither), which had the odd effect of making her care _more_ about her appearance, not less. As a result, she didn't live out of her dryer anymore, and several pairs of sensible brown shoes had been given the boot. She was a once-divorced single mother. That didn't mean she was dead inside. 

"Good _morning_, Detective," Lucifer said, stealing Officer Hadley's chair and rolling it far closer to hers than was appropriate. He collapsed into the cushioned seat in a way that gave meaning to the word _sloth_. "Double shot of espresso today, sans hair of the dog," he said, nodding toward her coffee. "Figured you could use a bit of an extra pick-me-up, what with burning the candle at both ends last night." His eyes twinkled above the edge of his cup as he sipped his coffee.

She blushed red, feeling the ghost of hot wax dripping onto her skin. "Thanks."

"Oh, you're _very_ welcome."

Clearing her throat, she wrapped fingers around the hot cup and stared unseeingly at her paperwork. "You know, we don't have a case. You could go—"

"Hey, Chloe?" Dan interrupted her, rounding the glass partition beside her desk.

She groaned inwardly at the forced grimace on his face. "Don't say it," she begged.

He said it: "I can't make it to the harvest festival." He held up his hands to defend himself from the daggers she was glaring. "I'm gonna be stuck in a stakeout," he chuckled, not as contrite as he should be.

"Can we trade places?" she said.

"Harvest festival?" Lucifer piped up. "What's this now?"

Palming her jaw and banking her elbow on her desk, Chloe angled toward him and intoned, "It's an annual LAPD event. Games, costumes, food, 'fun.' Kind of a second Halloween. That sort of thing."

"Well, why have I never been invited!" he scoffed. "_I_ work here."

He didn't, of course, and yet.

Dan snorted. "Sorry, Chlo," he said, retreating to his desk. Coward.

"I mean, really, Detective, if anyone knows how to appreciate a Bacchanalia, it's the Devil. And costumes!" Leaning closer and grabbing her arm in gleeful delight, he breathed, "_Couples_ costumes."

Oh, no. She had just dodged this on Halloween Night by saying she had to take Trixie trick-or-treating. 

"It wouldn't be your kind of party, Lucifer."

But he was on a roll and continued without pause, "Why, I'd even wear a 'me' costume if you liked, now that I know about your ironic little feti—"

"Okay!" Chloe shouted, drawing the attention of several nearby officers. She narrowed her eyes at Lucifer's mischievous smirk, suspecting he knew what he was doing. "_Really_," she insisted, "you don't want to go. It's a _family-friendly_ event." She went in for the kill. "There will be children. Lots of them. Competitions between dads, stuff like that."

Lucifer's face twisted in disgust. "Point taken. Leave it to you lot to ruin Samhain. Gosh, it's like you've all forgotten the marvelous orgies..."

"Gross," she said, looking back at her paperwork.

He huffed and nudged her leg, knowing too many of her secrets. Removing his flask from his suit jacket, he poured more liquor in his coffee. From the corner of her eye, Chloe watched as he lifted the cup to his mouth, then paused, glancing at her, and looked away. He tapped his fingers on his knee, fidgeting.

Chloe held back a smile. "What is it, Lucifer?"

"Hm? Well. It's only...will your offspring be bereft without Daniel's presence?"

She turned toward him, feeling the old shell she had encased her heart in during her divorce and his long absence shudder and soften. "You don't have to go for Trixie, but if you _want_ to join"—she held up a finger, cutting off what he was about to say—"and can _behave_, she'd love to have you." She shrugged a shoulder. "I wouldn't mind the company, either."

"I see." Setting aside his coffee, he picked at a cufflink. "When and where does this prosaic affair take place?" 

"It's this Saturday at Griffith Park, near the merry-go-round. Starts at 5:00 p.m."

"And what costume are you wearing?" he asked, eyes burning a hopeful trail down her body.

"I don't ever wear a costume."

His eyes returned to her face. "You don't ever wear a _costume_?" he repeated, flabbergasted.

Lieutenant Choi chose that moment to march toward Chloe's desk, file folder in hand. "Got a body, Decker."

"We'll get right on it," she promised, accepting the folder, while Lucifer hopped up and edged around Choi, to rush out of the building. She sighed. Why did she get the distinct impression she wasn't going to get much help from him on this one?

"Where are you going?" she called, jogging to keep up with Lucifer's long strides. "We have a case!"

Still walking away from her, he half-spun round, his suit jacket swinging open to reveal paisley lining. "Yes, and no bloody costumes!" He threw his hands in the air. "With two days to plan!"

"I don't want to _wear_ a costume!" 

He waved a hand over his shoulder, dismissing her desire with the ease of one secure in a long-term romantic relationship. "Really, who do you think you're _with_, Detective!"

* * *

***

* * *

The homicide case couldn't save Chloe from the harvest festival. It was an open and shut deal that required no overtime. And so she had the honor and the horror of bringing the actual Devil to the cheesy, police-approved event, two days later. 

He was loving it. 

In hindsight, she shouldn't have been surprised by how much Lucifer dove into the concept with glee. There wasn't much he didn't do gleefully, except paperwork and following the speed limit. She also suspected he got a kick out of being the scariest monster in the park, while nobody but she knew it.

She was thankful for his cheery extraversion as they navigated what she thought of as the "meet and greet" of these occasions, the time at the beginning when lining up for, and eating, food meant everyone pretended to be interested in everyone else's lives. You introduced yourself to new faces, laughingly apologized to old ones for not "catching up" between this event and the previous one, and asked after spouses and children whose names you had forgotten but had to pretend you remembered. The LAPD had more than nine thousand employees. Even with a sizable portion still on duty and people clustering according to precinct, it was overwhelming. 

Still, no one had mistaken Chloe for an officer's wife yet. Probably because no one, except Patrol Officer Rojas, had paid Chloe much attention outside of a casual hello. Rojas was a lesbian. Rojas appreciated Chloe's costume. A lot.

In the line for burgers, they stood behind Lisa Hadley, Scotty Hadley's plump, rosy-cheeked wife. Chloe never forgot Lisa, partly due to the proximity of Scotty's desk to her own and partly due to Lisa's very strong Facebook opinions on toxins and the miracle cures of essential oils.

"What are you two supposed to be?" Lisa smiled and batted her eyelashes at Lucifer. And why not? Her husband already had. "I mean, I know _you're_ a skeleton."

More like a lithe, tall angel from Hell wearing full-body, black spandex that left very little to the imagination. The only aspect he hadn't fully committed to was a skeletal face, saying he refused to deprive the masses. It took everything in Chloe not to roll her eyes. And maybe not to feel some puffed-up pride, too.

"No, no," Lucifer corrected, his hands talking with him. "See, I'm Bones, and she's Special Agent Seeley Booth." Reaching out, he flicked up the edge of Chloe's blazer, revealing the garish, red belt buckle with its embossed rooster emblem strutting beneath the word _Cocky_.

It was an original prop from the show. He had paid a stupid amount of money for it. 

"Ohhh," Lisa said. "Didn't that end a while ago?"

"Yes," Chloe said. "Yes, it did."

Trixie weaseled herself between Lucifer and her mother, putting an end to that conversation by way of terrifying Lisa with her costume. Lucifer stepped a little farther right and regarded Trixie with the same confounded expression he always regarded her with, the one that said, "You are small, sticky, and can't hold normal conversations, please exit left." Of course, it wasn't how he really felt. He hammed it up for their amusement—and so he wouldn't have to look too closely at his affection. 

"_What_, urchin?" he asked, shoving a paper plate in her hands.

"Are you gonna sign up for the competitions?"

"Oh, honey," Chloe stepped in before Lucifer could get stuck, "I don't think Lucifer—"

"I already did, of course," he sniffed. 

Chloe paled. "Which competition did you sign up for?" 

"All of them," he said, shrugging. 

"All of them."

"Cool!" Trixie yelled. "I hope you win! Dad only ever does one."

The smirk on Lucifer's face suggested he was well aware of that. 

Grabbing hold of a spandex humerus, Chloe dragged Lucifer down to her level. "Do you honestly think it's a good idea for you to participate in team tug-of-war?" she snapped. 

He pulled away, amused. "I don't see why not." 

"Something-something _strength of ten men_," she muttered past clenched teeth. 

"Oh, I'm much stronger than Samson, unshorn, darling. But never fear. I have excellent control of my motor skills," he said, shoveling a mountain of fries onto his plate. He extracted a pickle from his burger and tossed it into his mouth with a grin. "As you are well aware." 

* * *

***

* * *

There were dozens of games and activities for the children, but only three competitions the parents of the LAPD could participate in at the harvest festival: a food-eating competition, team tug-of-war, and timed apple bobbing. The prizes were good. The humiliation was not. Chloe only participated in spring competitions, in an attempt to suffer in cooler weather. 

But Lucifer had spent eons in Hell. The fact that it was still seventy degrees didn't bother him in the least as he crammed hot dog after hot dog down his gullet. And that was, in fact, _literally_ what he did. Crammed them right in and down his throat. The Devil had no gag reflex and no shame. 

Chloe loosened her tie and watched, one hand covering her mouth. She had never been so disgusted and intrigued in her life. Beside her, Trixie hopped up and down, clapping and cheering. 

Two men in the surrounding crowd walked away, sweating beneath the awesome and disturbing power of revelation. 

When the timer buzzed, signaling an end to the competition, nobody moved for a long while, and then the crowd roared. The other participants, all men and one insane woman looking to break glass ceilings that didn't need breaking, had long since tapped out. Lucifer had dragged their plates toward himself some time ago. 

The final count was ninety-two hot dogs, buns included. Lucifer let out a raucous belch as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, what did I win?" 

"Did he just break a world record?" Chloe heard a man ask. 

"That's what I'm looking up," another man said, his head bent as he swiped through a web page on his cell phone. A moment later, he looked up in awe. "He crushed it."

Tug-of-war proved no less stressful, and Chloe was thankful when her daughter wandered off with a friend to play ring toss. 

Teams from two different precincts shook hands and moved to their respective ends of the rope. Lucifer drifted to the back of their precinct's team until Carlos Tanner of the Gang and Narcotics Division reached up and tapped on his shoulder.

"I should be behind you," said Carlos, flexing a bicep as large as his head to prove a point. Large-sized shirts didn't fit him. He bought mediums. 

Lucifer grinned. "Ooh, don't mind if you do."

Chloe sighed.

The whistle blew and both teams threw themselves into tugging. Lucifer made a show of leaning back and using one hand to pull. He gave Chloe a thumbs up, beaming like a jackass.

"I can't," she said to herself, and turned away to get cider.

He found her sipping her drink several minutes later. "You missed our big win!" he said, pouting.

"Shocker."

His pout deepened. "Are you saying you want me to lose, darling?"

"I'm saying. _Blend_. _In_."

"As if I could ever."

"Do you have your flask?" she asked, feeling up his chest and sides, as if she might find it hidden behind cartoon ribs. 

"If you want a roll in the hay, darling, there's a maze."

She glared at him, and he laughed.

"I didn't want lines to destroy the effect," he said, "but the funnel cake vendor is a dear. She's selling an assortment of beverages under her table."

She craned her neck, catching sight of the tarp-covered roof. Her mouth dropped open when she spotted the little old lady who looked like she might have been alive during the Prohibition Era.

"How do you even _know_ that?" Chloe demanded. 

"You know people like to tell me things," Lucifer said, eyes crinkling at their corners. 

Chloe narrowed her own. "Did you bring alcohol to this event?"

"I might have."

* * *

***

* * *

Trixie bounced beside Chloe, the half-melted eyeball swaying back and forth over her masked cheek. "Is Lucifer gonna win?" she asked. 

Probably. "I don't know, monkey. Lucifer's got some tough competition. Detective Baldwin won the apple-bobbing contest last year." It sure wasn't Dan, though he gave it his all—and got mono for his efforts. The LAPD made it a rule to replace the water and apples between rounds now. It was wasteful, but it wasn't mononucleosis.

"_Rules_! On the _count_ of _threeee_, you'll _bob_ for _apples_!" Officer Jackson yelled with the cadence of a former drill sergeant, which was exactly what he was. "First _man_ to _clear_ his _barrelll_—"

"I clear mine every day," Lucifer interjected with a pleased laugh.

"—or the _man_ who _bobs_ the most _apples_ at the _end_ of the five-minute _timerrr_ will win a _free dinner_ for the whole _family_ at Cassandra's _Grill_!" He turned to the contestants. "Hands _off_ the _barrel_ at _all_ times. That _clear_, men?"

Baldwin nodded.

"Sir, yes, sir," Lucifer said, saluting, which earned him chuckles from onlookers and a vicious scowl from Jackson.

"On the count of _threeee_! _ONE!_ ... _TWO!_ ... _THREE!_"

Lucifer sank his face into the water like it was his natural habitat. Chloe didn't expect so much gusto. He wasn't even the least bit concerned about his hair. He came up a moment later, shaking his head like a dog and cursing before diving back in. 

It soon became apparent he had no strategy, but plenty of tangential skills that were wildly inappropriate for a family-friendly gathering. His mouth chased the apples in the barrel, tongue working to corral them in a way that was very familiar. 

Clearing her throat, Chloe glanced at the people around her to see if they were seeing what she was seeing.

They were. Half of the women couldn't look away. Several others glared at male partners.

Baldwin spat out his tenth apple.

"Lucifer kinda sucks at this," Trixie sighed.

Chloe was thankful _that_ was her take-away. 

He finally got one, just one, and let out a long, sinful moan of happiness. A woman several feet away clutched her chest and swayed.

"Okay, monkey!" Chloe turned her daughter around. "Why don't you go to the haunted house?"

"But you said I wasn't allowed to go alone until next year."

"Well, Mommy was wrong. You're a big girl," she said, shoving. "You'll be fine. You have your phone?" 

"Uh-huh," Trixie confirmed, already walking away. "And my knife!" 

Trixie was long gone before Chloe realized what she had said. 

* * *

***

* * *

On account of booze and a live band that mysteriously appeared halfway through the evening, the harvest festival stretched on, until Chloe was forced to put her foot down so Trixie could get some rest. The party was going strong at midnight.

As they walked back to Chloe's car, Lucifer threw an arm around her shoulders and rested a hand atop Trixie's head as if she were a dog. His spandex was finally dry.

"Did you have fun, ladies?" he asked.

"Uh-huh!" Trixie launched into a meandering tale about the haunted house as they neared Chloe's Dodge, which roared to life long before she unlocked the doors.

"Lucifer," she sighed.

"Oh, come now," he chuckled. "What's the point of this season if you're not going to enjoy a little bloody mischief?"


End file.
